Drive, He Said
by eden alice
Summary: 'The urge to crumble, closed eyed in the corner was as childish as it was strong. But she always remained standing.' There are some ghosts she could never escape.
1. Chapter 1

Drive, He Said

_In you I feel so dirty in you I crash cars_  
_In you I feel so pretty in you I taste stars_  
_We must never be apart_

It was raining again but she had not expected anything else. Water clung to the darkness of her hair forming thick waves that stuck heavily to her face as she moved. Drops turned into liquid fire as the street lights cut paths through the night. And even as the street was deserted it was still overwhelming and loud and she needed to get away, away from the noise and confusion.

Her heels were rapid gunfire against the unforgiving cobbles and thunder rolled in the heavens sounding impossibly close and yet so very far away. She shivers against the cold, sodden clothing clinging to her like a second skin or a straight jacket and tries to remember just how long she'd been hiding outside for.

Inside the fucking cozy little pub with their laughter and fucking twee little party. It makes her blood boil with them dressed as silly goblins or witches or ghosts. She doesn't understand how they can laugh anymore. How they don't remember the pagan origins of the day. Samhain. How the dead are painfully close, but she does not want to be haunted any more, doesn't think she can stand it.

And there was Nick looking so smug as he gushed all about his new business to her best friend and all her staff just waiting for her to provide the next bit of juicy gossip while Michelle kept asking questions she did not know how to answer. She had no idea what fine was anymore. Worst of all was the look and horror and disapproval on Peter's face as he watched her withdraw to the quietest corner with a glass and a bottle of whiskey she'd helped herself to.

She had got through most of the bottle in record timing and sighed at the familiar feeling of the alcohol singing through her veins. It had been too long without the artificial numbness, it was like embracing an old and trusted friend and everything else felt a little further away.

She wonders how she coped without it, wondered why she would even want to. Or how long she could keep going before her kidneys stopped working or she passed out and chocked on her own vomit. For the first time in months she felt a little safer because everything had unraveled just that little bit further than sanity.

People notice her but no one approaches and she was glad even if it stung a little. They could say what they wanted, they always did. She knew Peter would come to confront her before he did. Read his face from the distance and saw his worry and self righteous guilt.

She had revealed more of herself to the man than she was usually comfortable with and in turn she'd learnt a little of the person behind the casual ruggedness and stubborn temper. She disliked the way he indulged his own weaknesses, blaming them on his family's shortcomings but found comfort in his steady realism and grave sarcasm. She knew that sometimes she unnerved him with how quickly and intensely she understood him. That pleased her, she liked the control that little bit of unpredictability gave her, just like she needed to keep a small and dangerous part of herself safe from her self appointed savior.

His internal struggle was written all over his face as he pretended to listen to whatever his father was saying. Darkly handsome features twisted with indecision. This was her choice she told him silently, he had done his best but maybe she was a little too broken, a little too callous and maybe she did not even want to be saved.

If she had a camera she could capture the exact moment he made a decision, saw the resolve in his eyes, the way he pulled himself out of his normal slouch. Her breathe had caught a little in her throat and then quickened, her grip unconsciously tightening around her glass as if she was scared he would snatch it away from her.

She could not listen to him anymore, did not want to hear any of them but especially him. All destructive anger shattering into painfully jagged pieces that cut her insides to pieces and left her with nothing but her sorrow. She couldn't move fast enough, it was like being underwater the alcohol taking over her coordination, her chest tight and painful. She had to get away from him, from all of them, away from the judgment and pity and the normalcy that she would never be able to share again. She wants to be alone because no matter how lonely she feels this is worse. Their smiles and shrikes and friendly teasing were almost physically painful and she wanted nothing more than to be hollow.

Peter had taken only three steps in her direction before she stood up, hands grasping blindly for the thick cardigan she had thrown carelessly over the back of a chair. His eyes grew softer as they locked on to hers but she was too far gone to understand his silent message. Adrenaline coursed through her veins awaking her in ways she had not felt for the longest time. All she could hear was her blood rushing and her heart pounding.

Holding her cardigan tight against her chest she moved to flee but accidently stumbled into the path of a near by bar stool sending it flying, it clattered against the floor loudly and her thighs sting with the impact. No one turned around, no one gave a fuck apart from Leanne whose startled gaze flickered between her fiancé and her friend as if something terrible was happening and she could not quite understand it. She was probably right.

Leanne moved away from her ex to stand just behind her future husband. A future that was so enviable now she had nothing left.

"Carla," Her friends frowns and says.

For the first time she wonders what she must look like, wondered if she could see her own reflection within Leanne's wide, concern filled eyes. She did not like being watched. It was as if the couple had unconsciously united in a force against her to remind her of everything she had lost. And how the little that she had left was slipping through her fingers no matter how she desperately tried to keep hold. It was strange, how close she was meant to be to this other woman, the person she had confidence in, told her things she had never told anyone. And yet now, she felt no connection. A small venomous part of her thought that her friend should already understand what was wrong even if she had worked so hard to make sure no one ever found out.

She hated their eyes on her, the way they broke through her chemically induced numbness. Away, she needed to get away. The urge to crumble, closed eyed in the corner was as childish as it was strong. But she always remained standing, she never fucking backed down. Instead she hugged her arms around her heaving chest and tried to blink back sudden tears.

"Carla please." Peter held his palms out as if he was trying to calm a wild animal and she wanted to tear his eyes out for making her feel like a weak pathetic drunken creature. But she had done that to herself. She was the one crumbling.

She took a half step back. The others were starting to notice. Nick's silent curiosity reminded her of a hyena waiting for the lion to die.

"Car' what's wrong? Peter what's happening? If you've upset her…" Leanne stumbled and threatened and Peter did not respond because the truth was hideously obvious and somehow unmentionably complicated all at the same time. She hated the way they both said her name. The walls spun gently or she was swaying herself, it was difficult to tell.

She wanted to say something but words did not seem forthcoming. Her throat felt stiff and sore as she opened her mouth and she shut it again quickly out of fear of what would escape. Instead she wiped the hot tears away from her cheeks with the back of a hand and swallowed enough panic that she could make her body move again.

Quickly she edged past the couple who still stared at her simply and out into the night, running into the sheets of rain and fierce lightening before any of them think of following her.


	2. Chapter 2

_as black as the night can get_  
_everything is safer now_  
_there's always a way to forget_  
_once you learn to find a way how_

Eventually lurking in the shadows is not enough. The noises of the storm like a violent war surrounding her and yet it is not enough to silence her thoughts. They never found her and she wonders if maybe they never even tried to follow. She did not want to be found and yet she still wished they had at least tried.

She shivers more with the dry sobs that take hold of her body rather than the sodden cold that lingers on her skin like a lovers caress. She holds her head skywards and lets the wind sting her eyes and thinks of how faraway and peaceful it seems. She can barely remember a time when she had enough faith to say a prayer.

She wants to be up there, out of her mind and safe in oblivion. Alcohol used to be enough; she remembers how it made things simpler, made her feel untouchable. It's like being betrayed by a friend because now it only brings caustic confusion and sharpens the pain. The chaos in her head was impossible to escape when she wonders if it is all she has left.

Her heart hammers against her ribs like it could explode through her chest. The organ is a traitor and she struggles to understand how it is not too damaged to work. A sharp laugh falls from her lips, it's lost in the sounds of the night but she can feel it vibrate through her chest.

Her hands thread under the tangles of her hair to press against her ears, nails sharp against the tender skin of her temples and tear little half moons but she can not shut it out when everything that threatens to destroy her comes from inside. She wonders if she had always been poison and if maybe her mother had seen it in her even when she was an infant. And that the world would be better off if she just followed her instincts and retreat away from the people whose lives she had touched.

Her heels were a little higher than normal. Even Michelle had winced and made a comment about snapping an ankle but the cruel looking pair felt right like part of amour. It wouldn't really bother her if she fell anyway. The cobbles slick and hard, gleaming with water as black as the night. She twirls a little on the spot like a broken ballerina. She had never fallen on this street, barely even stumbled. She had tempted fate so many times and yet she remained standing, she almost felt cheated.

Decision made she headed back, back to the place she wanted to escape from, tension growing tighter inside with every step but at least she had some semblance of a plan. She had a way out. The factory loomed powerful and imposingly grey and she wondered why she always fought so hard for the damn thing. It contained so many memories within its walls. The good were sometimes more excruciating than the bad.

She had literally rebuilt it from the ashes but there never was a new start, nothing was erased, she would be naïve to even consider the idea. Sometimes she still felt the blistering heat as if it was a living memory, the smoke still chocking her and she wonders if she will ever escape.

Her car sits outside and she breaths a little easier once she sets eyes on it. She had learnt to drive as soon as humanly possible. It had been her first taste of complete control, a hint of freedom. The powerful metal vehicle felt like her only means of escape, and she really wanted to escape once and for all.

She finds her keys with surprising ease just like it is destined and slips inside shutting the door quickly behind herself. The rain is heavy against the roof but inside the air is still. And then she truly feels the cold for the first time all night, bare skin burning, her wet and heavy clothes uncomfortable and she almost considers tearing layers off but there is no time.

Not that long ago she felt familiar confusion and panic, she'd fled then, from the same spot on a similarly tempestuous night with the man she once married clinging on desperately. His face twisted into a demonic mask as lightening flashed. She had sped off not caring if she hurt him because she did not know what else she could do.

And then she was driving again before she even thought about it, the engine roaring to life and pulling away as natural as breathing. Maybe she could survive this even as her fingers tainted blue and numb at the ends shook a little unsteady against the steering wheel.

She's not cautious and a little too fast but the street was deserted and she doubted she would have enough energy to care even if it wasn't. She was almost tempted to close her eyes especially as the blur of rain against the windscreen reduced the outside world to solid undistinguishable shapes. She could pretend she was the only person in existence and no one would ever touch her ever again. But the buzz from the alcohol was fading slightly leaving her feeling a little nauseous, a headache forming behind her eyes.

She put her foot down and pointed the car mindlessly in any direction and tried not to think.

And then there was a pressure like something leaning on the back of her chair pulling it back a little and she did not quite feel so alone. She was not shocked or fear and she wanted to laugh again because it really was silly and yet it felt completely natural.

She had finally lost her fucking mind.

She can see an elbow against the headrest in her peripheral vision. A quick glance in the mirror reveals a dark shape of a man in her back seat leaning forward so that he almost towers over her. Even in the shadows he seems so familiar but it was such a long time ago.

"This reminds me of playing cluedo with our Ryan. Should have known its always the same answer. Always a Connor in a bloody car."


End file.
